


Shields Up

by autobotscoutriella



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Also explosions, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Forcefields, Gen, General Exploration of Outlier Stuff, Pre-Canon but During the War, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 20:09:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17250590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autobotscoutriella/pseuds/autobotscoutriella
Summary: A pinned-down Autobot unit resorts to desperate measures when all other options seem to be exhausted. Trailbreaker just really needs a drink.





	Shields Up

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the same universe as "Vox Populi"--mostly a Bayverse rewrite with elements pulled in from TFP and IDW and a heavy focus on outliers/point-one percenters, inspired by the "Soundwave as a telepath in all continuities" fanon. This one also introduces one of the OCs who plays a relatively major role in some of the multi-chapter fics set in this universe (which I'll get around to finishing and posting one of these days).

Thunder rumbled in the distance, an ominous warning of storms to come that was audible even over the earth-shaking explosions turning the once-beautiful canyon into a deadly cloud of shrapnel. Trailbreaker crouched behind the relative shelter of a mech-high pile of rubble, watching for any break in the bombardment that might allow the Autobots time to retaliate. None came. From a distance, he couldn't be sure, but it looked like the ridge blocking the far end of the canyon was lined with heavy artillery—enough to stagger their rates of fire and keep up a relatively constant barrage.

It was an annoyingly good tactic. Deadly, nearly impossible to work around without having to exit the canyon and cross the open space outside, and guaranteed to make the Autobots pay for every inch of ground they gained—that was damn good strategy. Whoever was in command of the 'Con forces knew what they were doing.

"Hey, Teebs!" Springer crashed into the shelter of the rubble beside him, covered in ash and stains that looked suspiciously like energon. "Tell me there's a gap you can get through. We got 'Cons circling around the back and the scouts just called in Seekers inbound from the north. We're pinned down."

Another explosion ripped into the ground, this one so close it sent a shower of razor-sharp metal shards over the pile of rubble. Trailbreaker reflexively snapped a shield into place to block it. "Negative. It's too hot. I might make it, but I can't take on an army alone and I can't take anyone with me. They'd hafta fit behind the shield, and I don't have that much room. One servo out of place and they'd be dead."

Springer grimaced as the ground vibrated with the force of another round of cannon fire. "There's gotta be a way. We can't stay out here much longer, or we're all scrap—and we got no way to go back now, not with the 'Cons circling in."

That sounded like it was leading up to an order to attack, and damn the consequences. "Where's that air support? Didn't you—" The shrieking whistle of a solid projectile prompted both mechs to dive for better cover. "—call it in?"

"Of course I did!" Springer swiped a servo across his optics, trying to clear them of dust and smoke. "Apparently there's no one to send. Prowl says he's trying." He practically spit the last word, disgust radiating from every inch of his frame. "Means we're on our own. You sure there's no way through?"

"Would I tell you there's no way through if I wasn't _sure_?" Trailbreaker deflected another cloud of shrapnel with a small shield, wincing as pain flashed through his helm. He was low on everything, and it was starting to cut into his shield generators. "Yes, I'm damn sure I can't take anyone else up there and I can't beat an entire line of cannons by myself."

"Well, they gotta run out of energon for those cannons sometime—"

As if on cue, the roar of cannon fire stopped, leaving an eerie silence broken only by crackling thunder in the distance.

"That was quick." Trailbreaker started to stand up and step out, only to be roughly yanked back by the upper arm. "Hey—get off! I've got shields, mech, and at this range I can stop a blast. I'll be fine."

"We don't know why they stopped," Springer snapped, though he released his grip on Trailbreaker's arm. "Could be just saving their fuel, and I'm not risking losing the only outlier in my squad." He risked a quick glance over the top of the miniscule shelter, which didn't prompt any further cannon fire. "They showed us we can't get past, 's all they gotta do really, but I'll bet anything you like that if they get a clear shot at one of us they'll take it. If you're sure there's no way past—" Trailbreaker's engine rumbled indignantly, and Springer held up an exasperated servo. "Fine! Okay. You can't get us past, so how the frag are we supposed to get down there and out of this canyon?"

"You're the captain! _You_ think of—" Trailbreaker's brief descent into near-insubordination was cut off by the crackle of static on the comm lines.

::Captain! Pull back...base...Command sent...waiting at...center. No air support at...time.::

"What?" Unlike the voice on the comm lines, Springer came through loud and clear, so much so that Trailbreaker grimaced. "Repeat that. I do not read you. Repeat. Repeat. Can anyone—oh, frag it, let's go."

The "command center" was nothing more than two sheets of metal propped against a heap of rubble, creating a flimsy three-sided shelter. It wouldn't have held up to any kind of weapons fire within thirty yards, and it did nothing to keep out noise; as far as Trailbreaker was concerned, it barely qualified as a structure, let alone a "center" of any type. Springer insisted on calling it the Command Center, though, and it at least served as an easily identifiable meeting point for briefings and strategy discussions.

Leadfoot, Springer's interim second-in-command, waited in the makeshift shelter along with Mirage—who looked annoyingly calm and collected, for someone who must have made a mad dash to get into the shelter of the Autobot holdout without being gunned down by the surrounding Decepticons—and an undersized dark blue two-wheeler Trailbreaker didn't recognize. The portable holoprojector serving as a temporary map table showed a grim layout: they were boxed in on three sides, with more bright purple beacons circling around in a trajectory that would have them on the Autobots' rear in a matter of hours. The drone cannons on the cliff weren't backed by many of the little beacons anymore—they must have sent out their rear patrol from that unit—but there were still far too many on the ridge for one mech to have any hope of dealing with them. Trailbreaker dismissed his brief hope of possibly trying to push through the canyon alone with a brief inward sigh.

"You'd better have good news, 'Raj." Springer didn't bother with a greeting. "Where's that backup I called for?"

Mirage gestured to himself and his scrawny companion with a quick flick of one hand. "You're looking at it. Prowl says he's sorry, but—"

"Prowl says he's sorry?" Trailbreaker interrupted incredulously. Mirage and Springer both turned to glare him into silence.

"All right—" Mirage conceded, irritation audible in his tone. "—the sorry was implied. There's no one to send, and won't be until they push back the Decepticon incursion into the Tagon Heights. We're all he could spare, but we're here to help you hold out until he can reassign a unit or two."

"Help us hold out?" Springer repeated, disbelief and anger mingling in his tone and EM field. " _Help_ us _hold out_? Prowl wants us to hold position here, with 'Con blockades on three sides and one closing in from the rear, and he sends two mechs as backup? Is he out of his bloody _mind_?"

"More like one and a half, if you ask me," Leadfoot grunted. Trailbreaker couldn't help but agree, though it seemed best to keep that to himself.

Mirage might have rolled his optics in response. It was so subtle Trailbreaker couldn't quite be sure if it was an actual optic roll, or just a glance around the room. "Cool your jets," the former noble snapped. "He sent everyone available, and we weren’t easily spared. All we need is a good plan and we _can_ hold out."

"Oh, _thank_ you. We _never_ would have thought of coming up with a plan on our own." Springer threw up both servos in exasperation. "Why don't we just hand ourselves over to the 'Cons right now and save Prowl the trouble?"

The tiny dark mech flinched. Mirage ignored her. "For Primus' sake, Springer, get a grip. We're on your side."

"Get a grip? You spend a week under fire with half a unit left and no supplies and then tell me to get a fragging—" Springer's tirade was cut off by an explosion ripping through the barricade at the south side of the camp, shaking the metal shelter ominously. Leadfoot swore and caught one of the small struts helping to brace the 'walls' before it fell entirely.

"That's our cue, boss. We're outta time."

"Well, I'm open to suggestions that aren't "go out in a blaze of glory", because that seems to be what we've been set up for." Springer glared around the room, daring anyone to speak. "Anything?"

"I-I might have something, maybe," Mirage's tiny partner volunteered hesitantly. Despite speaking, she seemed to be trying to flatten herself back into the wall and vanish. "You said those cannons—those—" She pointed at the holoprojector. "They're drones, right? Not tankformers or anything, just automated drones with some Vehicons or whoever covering?"

"We didn't mention it, but yeah," Trailbreaker answered, when Springer and Leadfoot looked at each other without responding. He wondered if she'd been studying the map while Mirage and Springer argued—it was an oddly specific thing to know. "We checked. There's no way through—I could get myself up there with shields, maybe, but no one else. Solid line, staggered fire, no gaps."

The tiny mech nodded, looking from side to side as if trying to keep the entire room in her field of vision. "Okay, but what if we could make a gap? What if one or two of the drones went down—maybe on the end of the line so they can't easily re-angle to cover it. If we made a gap, could you get a small team up there?"

"Get to the point," Springer snapped. "Sure, if we made a gap, we could probably get up there, but we can't make a gap without that air support I requested, which isn't here."

She tried to shrink back into the wall again. "I-I think I might be able to shut one down. Or two. Maybe. If I can get close enough."

"You can shut down drones? _How_? Why didn't you mention this earlier?" Springer demanded.

"Outlier." Mirage jumped in before she could answer, cutting off further questions with a sharp gesture. "Look, we're short on time, it's all we've got. I'll explain later. Riella, how close would you have to be to do that? And are you sure?"

"Uh—" Outside, another explosion rattled the ground. The tiny outlier flinched again and looked away from Springer. "As close as I can get. And I—I can do it. I've done it before, in—"

"You heard her. She can do it." Mirage turned expectantly to Springer and Leadfoot. "We're low on time, mechs."

"Fine. Fine, it's the best we've got. Our best, for the record, sucks." Springer's jaw tightened. "Leadfoot, take everyone we can spare from the east patrol line and bring them back toward the south—see if you can set up some kind of rear defense. I'll take the west, send you some support and bring a few up toward that canyon. You lot—" He pointed at Trailbreaker and Mirage, skipping over Riella entirely. "Figure out if this will work and do it, fast. Comm me if she pulls it off before we get there. Copy?" The last few words were shouted back over his shoulder as he vanished into the dust and smoke outside.

Trailbreaker exchanged a dubious look with Mirage and gestured in the general area of the canyon, where artillery fire was beginning to thunder again. "A'right, let's go. Stay behind me and watch your step." Odds were Springer was right, and they were going to go out in a blaze of glory, but it wasn't like they'd been given a lot of options.

Anyway, if they were going to go, it might as well be memorable.

The pile of rubble that had served as decent shelter less than an hour earlier had been reduced to slag, along with two unfortunate mechs who must have been using it as cover. Dodging another ground-shaking blast, Trailbreaker picked a second rubble heap a dozen or so yards further back and on an angle to the cannon fire, trying not to look at the still-smoking frames. "Do your thing, kid. This is the best I got, and we can't stay here long." Shrapnel tore through the air, bouncing off the shield he threw up by reflex. "Now!"

Bright, expressive blue optics narrowed in concentration, fixing on the far end of the canyon, and suddenly flashed unsettlingly white. Trailbreaker started back in surprise and bumped into Mirage, who silenced him with a glare. "It's fine. Leave her to it."

But the white had already shifted back to blue as the tiny outlier shook her head frantically. "I can't. I can't. We're too far. It's out of my range."

"What do you mean, out of your range?" Trailbreaker snapped, in a harsher tone than he really meant to use. "You see those mechs? That's what we're gonna look like if we get much closer. If this is too far, we're slagged."

"I can't—I can't help it! I can't reach it." Tiny black hands—fingers tipped with claws, Trailbreaker noted—gestured helplessly toward the canyon. "I don't—Drones are _hard,_ okay? They don't—they don't come up like mechs. They're easy to control but hard to reach. I have to get closer."

Her optics flickered a paler shade of blue, and Mirage leaned around Trailbreaker to hiss, "If you run out there by yourself, you _will_ die, and if you don't Prowl will court-martial you. Stay. Put."

"I wasn't—" There was an instant's twitch as her attention seemed to be yanked back to the present from wherever she had been. "I wasn't."

"Don't. Trailbreaker, you said you could push further up with a shield. How far in can you get her?"

"Do I look like a walking blast shield? It's meant to cover me, not a patrol, and I'm already low on reserves. If I could manage full coverage for enough mechs to take down the cannons..." Trailbreaker's protest trailed off mid-sentence as he thought about that question. She was small, barely coming up to his hip joint and carrying so little armor she looked practically skeletal. If anyone was small enough for him to cover completely under heavy fire, she was. "Look, 'Raj, you won't fit. I can try to take her, but that's heavy artillery. One inch out of line..."

"I know." It was Riella who interrupted him this time. "I can do it. I just need to be a little closer. If you can get me up there, we can do this." The wobble in her voice told him she didn't really believe it. Trailbreaker didn't blame her. His shields were good, but holding out against that artillery was a desperate stretch even of his abilities.

But did they have a choice? They were out of options. Springer and whoever he'd managed to drag away from the rear defenses would be there any moment, expecting some sort of chance. They had to try. He had to try—because if he couldn't do it, her ability was all but useless, and they were all going to die.

"Left wall, not too close. It'll be more of a challenge for them to cover the gap once you make it. Stay under the shield and don't so much as twitch without telling me, and we might not die." He didn't believe that last part at all. "You understand me?"

She nodded, optics wide and pale and not entirely focused. He hoped that was a side effect of her abilities and not a sign that she was in mid-panic. Some abilities showed up like that, flashing physical signals, but

"I'll comm Springer. Go. Go!" Mirage ducked down as a hefty shard of metal bounced off the rubble above his head.

The instant Trailbreaker moved out from behind the rubble, dirt and shrapnel battered against his shields, clouds of dust briefly obscuring his vision. The cannon fire redoubled, ripping craters in solid metal underfoot and drowning out any other sound except the rumbling crack of artillery fire. The 'Cons on the ridge couldn't have known what was going on—who would possibly be stupid enough to walk straight into a heavily armed ridge?—but they didn't plan to let anyone get far.

They were going to die. This was a stupid plan. Why had he stupidly agreed to this?

His tiny 'backup' pressed close against his leg, practically stepping on his heels—or maybe actually stepping on his heels, she was light enough it wouldn't have made much difference. Her EM field was pulled unnaturally tight against her frame, so close he couldn't read anything off it other than that it existed. Scared and locking it down, probably.

Then the first full explosion hit the shield, and Trailbreaker's attention was forcibly yanked back to keeping it in place. The force of the shock wave nearly knocked them both backward for a single spark-stopping second, but the shield held.

Holding a shield wall in a complete dome was harder than most mechs assumed. Trailbreaker might have been sparked with the ability, but that didn't mean pushing his limits came naturally. Throwing up a quick shield on one side or the other was one thing. Keeping a full dome steady under heavy fire, while exhausted and low on fuel, was insane. Everything about this situation was insane.

His helm pounded with pain, a distraction he couldn't afford with the relentless cannon bombardment now fully surrounding them. He gritted his denta, shut off his audials to protect sensitive components from the sound of explosion after explosion ripping through metal and slamming against the forcefields, and told himself he would not pass out, not even if he burned through every ounce of spare energon he had left. If they were both going to die, he'd do it awake, damnit.

According to his chronometer, it was two-point-five minutes of slowly pushing forward, sheltered behind a flimsy force-field as lethal shrapnel pressed in all around, before something poked the back of his knee. He dismissed it as a cable cramp, brought on by exhaustion or the physical strain the shields put on his frame, or both, and tried to push forward, but was interrupted by another, sharper jab. If he couldn't stay on his feet—

_/Trailbreaker!/_

The voice cut through his focus like a hot knife, searing pain ripping through his helm and the minimal firewalls he'd barely bothered to keep up. He stumbled, dropped to a knee, and barely had time to wonder why he hadn't gotten a comm ping before another message slammed through with another stab of pain that nearly blinded him.

/We're—close—enough!/

The words didn't process. The shield stuttered dangerously, warning that he was too low on energy and his focus was slipping. Reflex coding he'd hoped not to have to use snapped into play, warnings flashing in his HUD, almost too late. He could only watch the trio of cannons targeting them from the end of the line as the center one swept into place and fired—

—and the bolt of energon drove into the canyon wall above them, wildly off-target, showering them both with tiny sharp shards of rock and metal as the panic bubble snapped into place around them, replacing the flickering, failing shield. The explosions battering it slowed immediately and drastically, as if the number of cannon blasts had suddenly been cut in two.

Riella stood frozen where she'd stepped out from behind Trailbreaker, one arm flung up to protect her face, optics huge and fixed in a shade of bright white that Trailbreaker had only ever seen in a mech who'd been triaged as 'too injured to help'.  She must have been hit—the shield had flickered just once or twice before the panic bubble locked down, but with such a light frame, a few bits of shrapnel or the outer edge of a shockwave would have been all it would take to cut straight through to something vital—

Then she twitched, white optics flickering a pale shade of blue and back to white again. Cables stood out in her neck and jaw, and the fingers on her raised servo trembled and tensed as if she was pushing against something heavy and invisible.

Slow, unwilling recognition sank in as Trailbreaker connected the dots between the messages bypassing his comm system entirely, and the abruptly off-target cannons. When he turned to look, the cannon in the best position to hit them angled up, charging lights rippling along the little he could see of its barrel—and then dropped back into place, completely dark, as if someone had cut it off from its power source. The one beside it did the same, sinking lifelessly into what he suspected was its transport mode, and then the one on the other side, opening a gaping hole in the Decepticon line. 

 _/Can't—hold it for long—go!/_ The message came through jagged and cut off, like stammering, but it was as clear as if she'd spoken aloud in a quiet room. Something—someone—pushed at his firewalls, warnings flashing in his HUD before they dropped entirely and someone else's terror battered his processor like a wave of panic. It withdrew only seconds later, but it confirmed the suspicion that had already sunk into his spark like a sucker-punch to the fuel tanks.

She was a telepath. An itty-bitty, probably uncontrolled baby telepath, who had run straight over his firewalls without batting an eye and had been in their command center listening to all their plans and—

Trailbreaker swore and recoiled, backing off to the very edge of the panic bubble to get as far from her as he could, even while knowing it wouldn't do any good. The bubble wouldn't lower for half an hour, and if she could shut down the drones on the ridge, she had more than enough ability to fry his processor in close quarters. No wonder Prowl hadn't sent anyone else. No wonder Mirage had been cagey about her abilities.

_/Go!/_

It was like having someone shrieking inside his head. Trailbreaker jerked back and bumped into the shield, trying to stay out of her direct line of sight even though she was barely looking at him.

"Stop it!" His audios were ringing and his helm throbbed like someone was hammering on it. "Stop! I can't—Primus frag it, _stop that_!"

She jumped, optics flickering as she looked between him and the ridge for a panicked split second. Trailbreaker froze, hoping he hadn't just jeopardized his own life and that of the team Springer was supposed to be bringing up. Where was Springer?

"Teebs! Hey, good work!" Someone—Springer—banged on the back side of the panic bubble, making them both jump. For a second, Riella's optics turned blue, and an explosion ripped through the ground dangerously close. She let out a startled squeak, threw up a hand, and went very still, optics losing focus and turning white again.

That was creepy. Trailbreaker edged away from her and around the outside of the panic bubble, toward Springer and the one—two—three—five mechs he'd brought with him, probably more than they could spare.

"Panic bubble—I can't—"

"I got it, I got it." Springer was already moving past. "Just hang tight and whatever she's doing, don't let her stop. We got this!"

Trailbreaker sank to one knee, nursing his throbbing helm and trying not to take his optics off the tiny blue outlier for even a second. For her part, she didn't even seem aware he was there anymore, but with her ability there was absolutely no way to know. Soundwave, the few times Trailbreaker had been unlucky enough to be on the same battlefield with him, had never seemed to have trouble keeping track of everything and everyone at once, and it had never ended well for the Autobots.

Lucky Springer. Lucky anyone who wasn't stuck in a bubble with a telepath.

Shouts over the comm line faded into an unintelligible background haze, punctuated by explosions up along the ridge and what might have been distant screams. Springer had made it to the cannon line. With any luck, there wouldn't be more than a few Vehicons assigned to watch the drone cannon line.

But when had luck ever gone their way? Trailbreaker slumped back against the forcefield, the world swirling around him, and risked a brief glance up at the flashing explosions on the ridge. The few remaining working cannons had been redirected, leaving the canyon relatively clear despite the shrapnel still punctuating the walls and ground.

Maybe the telepath had sensed a change in the action on the ridge, or maybe she had abruptly run out of energy or focus. Her optics flickered from blue to white and back again, and then she dropped, landing in a tiny heap of dark blue and black metal in the middle of the panic bubble.

Scrap.

He couldn't bring himself to approach her. His helm throbbed mercilessly, making his vision blurry and leaving him dizzy and unsteady. He wasn't going to grab at a telepath, even an unconscious one, not when he wasn't even sure he could get back on his feet without fuel and rest. He'd pushed himself well beyond his limits, and it was catching up to him.

When the panic bubble finally pulsed once and shut down, everything was fuzzy and traced with static, and he didn't recognize the mech hauling him upright, though he vaguely felt he should have. Somewhere between the canyon and the makeshift triage station beyond the ridge, he lost track of his companion, and couldn't bring himself to protest or try to track her down.

 *****

Mirage, irritatingly enough, showed up two hours later when Trailbreaker was in the middle of enjoying a second cube of energon. "Good, you're still awake. I was hoping to catch you before we left."

"Of course you're leaving." Trailbreaker groaned and stared into his cube. "Prowl wants you and the telepath back, I take it. Thanks for the warning, by the way." He didn't make any effort to keep the bitterness out of his tone.

"Right, sorry. Orders." Mirage didn't look nearly as sorry as Trailbreaker would have liked. He didn't show much of any reaction at all. Of course he'd known. "She is fine, incidentally. We decided it would be best not to get anyone's hopes up about putting a telepath in the field on our side until we knew she could pull it off. Her filters aren't the best, and she hadn't used them in battle yet."

"Are you telling me she wasn't field tested?" Trailbreaker practically shot bolt upright, winced, and sat back, rubbing at an aching neck cable. "You put a telepath on our battlefield without any warning and you didn't even know what she would do? You have any idea how badly that coulda gone? Are you insane?"

Mirage held up a defensive servo. "It wasn't my call. Calculated risk. I understand, and I am sorry, but we weren't overly burdened with options."

"You could have said something. Anything." Suddenly, the cube of med-grade didn't seem nearly strong enough. Trailbreaker wondered if the medic would sign off on getting him some high-grade engex. "Give us some Primus-damned warning. Prowl's lucky she didn't kill us all, and so are you!"

Annoyingly, Mirage didn't react to his anger. "She couldn't have. Look, between us—" He lowered his voice. "Prowl might be hoping she'll be another Soundwave, but she doesn't have that kind of power. She's too small to put much energy into it, and with the locking down she has to do—well. She's really more of an empath who can distance-hack drones, and even that's a stretch."

"I don't care. You don't use your own side for—for experiments." Trailbreaker sighed and slumped back. "Frag him."

Mirage opened his mouth to respond, paused before actually speaking, and looked off into the distance for a few seconds before turning to leave. "Shuttle's here, with a unit to back Springer's up. Should be easier to hold this position now that you have the ridge and the canyon. By the way, Riella says thanks."

Of _course_ she did.

By the time Trailbreaker thought of a good response to that, Mirage was out of sight, presumably on his way back to the Tagon Heights or wherever he was needed for another battle, another mission, another Primus-damned fight. No doubt Springer's unit would be moving out soon, too.

Frag it. Frag Prowl. Frag the entire concept of telepaths, while he was at it.

He needed a drink.

**Author's Note:**

> If you came here from Tumblr, you might recognize Riella--sort of. This is actually the original concept for her character, which I toned down significantly for RP purposes (including scrapping the outlier ability) and ended up developing along very different lines; pretty much none of the Tumblr or ficlet-based character development or relationships apply here.


End file.
